A History of Tears and Sex
by WynStora
Summary: Ferus Olin wasn't on Coruscant when the Republic went to the dogs. He was busy crying, throwing up on Anakin Skywalker's boots, dodging plates, and having sex. Oh, and embarking on self discovery. Set in Estora's "Jedi Master, Galactic Tyrant" universe.
1. to the dogs

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of __Ryn Orun belongs to DestructiveGlory;__ I am simply borrowing her for the purposes of this story._

_A History of Tears and Sex_ is a collection of stories is set in the_ Jedi Master, Galactic Tyrant _universe by Estora. These are a series of outtakes; a side-story, so to speak, that looks at the life of Ferus Olin in the AU. It might not make sense if you haven't read _Jedi Master Galactic Tyrant_ or DestructiveGlory's _Freefall_ (and its sequels), but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

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><p>(1)<p>

**to the dogs**

Ferus Olin wasn't on Coruscant when the Republic went to the dogs.

He didn't come up with that phrase, of course, but most of the things his best friend – or was that partner? (Lover? Girlfriend? He wasn't even sure) – said that shocked him also stuck. Ryn's crass description was actually quite fitting, all things considered, from the way the politicians, like starving snarling bitches mauling a slab of meat, lunged for the power vacuum left behind when Palpatine was killed.

Murder was the word in the Senate. Republic against Republic, Separatist against Separatist. Palpatine was to blame – and the Separatists were to blame. And the _Clones_ were to blame! And the _Jedi! Blame the Jedi!_

In other words, absolute chaos, and no corner of what was left of the Republic was left untouched by it. It was much like dropping a pebble into a still lake, watching the ripples expand from the centre until the surface was completely broken. Except with much less grace. And if the pebble was more like an asteroid and the lake was more like an already-raging ocean. With no stable government, another war was threatening to break out, this time within the Republic, and unless someone took power – something no self-serving politician really wanted anyone else to do – it was starting to look pretty bleak.

(Pathetic, actually, according to Ryn, since it wasn't like the Republic was credible anymore anyway.)

It didn't really have much to do with him, at any rate. Bellassa was a Core planet that aligned itself with the Neutral Systems Alliance in the third year of the Clone Wars and was enjoying an uninterrupted flow of trade, and had a relatively stable economy. Ferus liked to jump between Coruscant and Bellassa – the latter, because he had a house and a livelihood and a business in slicing with Roan Lands; the former, because Ryn was there. One day, he thought, when Loreth and the Jedi reached a proper agreement that didn't involve exploiting Ryn, he'd ask her to come back to Bellassa with him.

(He didn't know what her response would be to that, but he hoped that she'd say yes.)

Ferus had his regrets about leaving the Order. Darra and Tru and Master Tachi… the Jedi were the only family he had. The only ones, aside from Ryn, who'd ever really understood him. He thought of the Order often – far too much for someone who'd sworn to never look back. Secretly, though, Ryn was his biggest regret about leaving. Yes, they stayed in contact (and later in physical contact, she would smirk as she straddled him) but it wasn't the same, not having that partnership from their youth. He missed it. He missed _her_, even when he was _with_ her, because she was Areth'ryn Orun and Areth'ryn Orun belonged to the Jedi Order, and as long as he didn't and she did there would never really be a _them_ again. Orun-and-Olin.

Unless, of course, he went back to the Jedi, and that was out of the question.

(If she asked him to go back to the Jedi, he was almost certain he would. But she would never ask him to do that, and he wasn't sure he wanted her to.)

(He made himself confused sometimes, too.)

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><p>It took six months for the chairman of the Neutral Systems Alliance, King Androssi V – informally styled as Senator Kenobi – of Stewjon, to disband the squabbling remains of the Republic and re-establish order using the NSA as its base. Another month later and the New Republic officially had a Supreme Chancellor.<p>

The idea of Obi-Wan Kenobi as a politician prompted two reactions from Ferus: amusement, and shock. Amusement, because anyone who had ever known Obi-Wan prior to the Clone Wars knew the man couldn't stand politicians, and the situation's irony let even the most serious of persons find amusement in it. Shock for the exact same reason, except that it _wasn't_ funny at all.

He certainly didn't feel like laughing when he actually met Obi-Wan for the first time in years, on a routine trip to Coruscant. Being invited to the Chancellor's office was… unusual, to say the least. Worrying, too, since he wasn't sure what he'd done to catch the attention of the Senate.

"I heard you were on Coruscant," Obi-Wan explained when he arrived. "I wished to see how you were. I apologise for making you come all the way here, but the rest of the Senate is convinced that if I take so much as a step outside the building everything will fall to pieces…"

The truth, Ferus suspected, probably wasn't too far from that, considering the mountain-high pile of datapads and documents on Obi-Wan's swamped desk.

"It's been a long time, Ferus."

"Yes, it has."

"You look well."

_It's all the sex,_ Ryn snarked in his mind, and he stifled a cough. "Thank you."

To return the favour and say that Obi-Wan was looking well would be such a blatant lie that he couldn't even bring himself to say anything of the sort. As the Chancellor, he was sure Obi-Wan heard enough lies in one day to last him a lifetime…

"Do you know about Siri?" Obi-Wan asked softly, treading the water around Ferus.

There was no need for his caution, but it was appreciated. Ferus bowed his head, hiding the flinch of regret and pain. "I do."

Obi-Wan sighed. "I'm sorry."

As used to them as he was (since he had a habit of creating them, according to Ryn), Ferus still didn't like long awkward silences. "How is Skywalker?" he asked prudently, finding the thick Coruscant traffic rushing past the window far more interesting than it had any right to be.

Obi-Wan leaned against his desk, letting a smile flit across his face. "Oh, he's quite well. Still manages to give me a headache, but he's not the impetuous boy you used to know. He's matured."

Ferus nodded, shifting on his feet. "Was there anything in particular you needed, sir?"

"Your years away from the Order have not dulled your astuteness, I see," Obi-Wan said, then confessed, "I do have an ulterior motive in asking you here."

Ferus had a sinking feeling that he knew just what it was. "Oh?"

"Do you ever regret leaving the Order?"

_Yes._

But he didn't say that, and stood back, observing Obi-Wan coolly. Obi-Wan noticed the sudden change in temperament and adjusted accordingly. "Things are different now, Ferus," he assured him, voice as smooth as any politician's. "It's slow, but things are changing. Anakin is publicly married to Senator Amidala, there are talks of the Code being revised –"

"You know why I left," Ferus interrupted, crossing his arms. It didn't have anything to do with the Code. It didn't even have to do with Anakin – he'd forgiven the then-child a long time ago. It didn't even have to do with Ryn. It –

"I know why you left, but it doesn't explain why you stayed away," Obi-Wan responded, ever perceptive, and when Ferus tried to turn away he was stopped by Obi-Wan's hand resting on his shoulder. "You don't need to punish yourself anymore," Obi-Wan continued softly. Comfortingly. "You didn't need to punish yourself in the first place. You were never at fault. And you still have friends in the Order."

"Friends?" Ferus repeated. "No, not really. Everyone was my friend, but nobody was my particular friend. Except Siri, and Darra, and Tru." _And Ryn._ "At least one died because of me, and the other two died anyway."

"You have more friends than you think you do. Ryn Orun, for example…"

It was unnerving, how much Obi-Wan knew about him. _Negotiators do their research for an understanding of the situation_, he thought._ Politicians use it for a specific purpose. _Ferus frowned, failing to hide his displeasure. "She is not a Jedi."

"No, but she is bound to the Jedi," Obi-Wan reminded him. "You could teach the Order a lot. Make a difference. I said there are talks of the Code and the way things are at the Temple being changed, but that's all it is at the moment: talk. Anakin's sway with the Council is… tenuous, at best. But you, Ferus – you were one of the most admired pupils the Order has seen in years. They will listen to you where they won't listen to Anakin."

Change. He'd had a lot of that in his life. He used to think that going back to the Jedi would be a step backwards, a return to old life, but if what Obi-Wan was saying was true…

_You could be with Ryn again. Orun-and-Olin, like it used to be._

It was tempting.

(But not yet tempting enough to erase the years of hurt over Darra. He wondered if anything would.)

Then again… Change. Maybe he could do something for Ryn. Skywalker could only do so much on his own, what with his less-than-stellar reputation with the Council, and he couldn't rely on him for Ryn. They barely even knew each other. And the Council talking, but no action…

He didn't realise he'd responded until he finished talking: "I'm not making any promises to you, but… I'll think about it."

Obi-Wan's expression melted into exhausted gratitude. "Thank you."

Another long and awkward silence. (He was starting to think maybe he should keep scores of the long awkward silences he initiated. There had to be a galactic record out there he could break, or something.)

"I confess, I am surprised," Obi-Wan finally said. "I didn't expect that life outside the Jedi Order would suit you, but…"

Ferus ducked his head, hiding a flush. 'Suit' was one word for it, yes. (Ryn preferred 'thriving', usually said with a smirk as they, well…) "I would have said the same," he instead replied, pretending his face wasn't turning red. "But I adjusted. Master Tachi used to always tell me that I must accept change. Welcome it, she said – change is what keeps the galaxy spinning."

"Yes, that does sound like something Siri would have said," Obi-Wan murmured. "Change. So much has been happening, as of late." Ferus glanced up, and for the first time, he really looked at Obi-Wan. The man was… not just _tired_, but well and truly _worn out_, as though the only thing that was keeping him standing was the sheer strength of his will. And even his will looked to be rapidly disintegrating. The hair at his temples was grey, and wrinkles of exhaustion creased the corners of his eyes – his whole face just looked… gaunt. It struck Ferus as _wrong_. But then Obi-Wan smiled, and he almost looked like the Master Kenobi of the old days. "Siri would have been proud of you."

Would she? He didn't know, but the suggestion warmed him. "Thank you, Master Kenobi."

A flash of – regret? Grief? Longing? – swept across Kenobi's face at the slip. "Not Master," he corrected gently. "Not anymore."

_And probably never again_, was the unspoken part, but it resonated loudly about the room anyway. Ferus resisted the urge to fidget. "If I may, Mast- uh, Chancellor Kenobi –"

This made Obi-Wan wince. "Just Obi-Wan, Ferus. Please."

(And was that desperation?) "Obi-Wan."

The name felt unnatural on his tongue – here he was, addressing a former Jedi Master and now the Supreme Chancellor of the New Republic by his given name. The Ferus Olin of the past would _never_ have dared, even with permission…

He almost said, "I'd never have expected life outside the Order to suit you either," but the word 'suit' felt very wrong, looking at Obi-Wan's heavy expression and tired eyes and politician robes. So he swallowed it and instead said, "I'd never have expected you to live a life outside the Order either."

The Chancellor's eyes darkened. "No," he agreed, but the tenor was clipped. "However, it is as you said – change is what keeps the galaxy spinning."

Obi-Wan's bitter tone haunted Ferus for days afterwards.

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><p>It takes him three years, a bad argument, a disastrous affair, a lot of plates thrown at his head, a failed marriage proposal, another argument, a lot of sex, and a finally successful marriage proposal to make a decision about becoming a Jedi once more. It's why Ferus is on Coruscant when the Republic goes to the dogs again, only five years after all of that.<p>

(But that's another story all together.)


	2. don't come back

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of Ryn Orun belongs to __DestructiveGlory__; I am simply borrowing her for the purposes of this story._

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><p>(2)<p>

**don't come back**

It's been four months, two weeks, five days, and seven hours since Ryn met Anakin Skywalker. Not that he's counting, or anything. Because that's obsessive and clearly not normal behaviour. If he's honest with himself, though, he knows that it's really four months, two weeks, five days, and seven hours since he realised that Ryn has never been in love with him, and now most likely never will.

Four months, two weeks, and four days ago was the last time they had sex – the last time they sought physical contact, and the day he realised Ryn wasn't interested in him like anymore.

(Was she ever? Was she just indulging him all those years, waiting until the one she really loved came along?)

Someone once told him it wasn't healthy to keep feelings locked up. Maybe Ryn told him that? He can't remember. As a Jedi he was taught to release his emotions into the Force, but it's been so many years since he last embraced it that he neglects to feel it again now.

"I love you," he'd whispered after their lovemaking. (Could it really be called that, though? She responded the way she always did, but so distractedly, and the whole ordeal was so devoid of passion it was as if her mind was on something or someone else.)

(It wasn't hard to know who.)

She looked close to tears. "I know, Ferus," she said sadly, voice hitching, before kissing him on the cheek and rolling over to fall asleep. In that instant he realised – she never told him she loves him back.

And a little more than four months later, that's what comes up. His emotions can only be stretched so far. "You don't love me at all, do you," he says. At first he feels numb, like the words he speaks aren't quite real or solid.

Ryn, beautiful, sad, tormented Ryn, shakes her head. "It's not like that, Ferus."

"What does he have that I don't?"

"I told you it isn't like that!" she snaps next. "You think this is easy for me to deal with? Meeting someone I think I was supposed to be with my whole life, only to find out the opportunity passed me by?"

"You had _me_."

Ryn turns away, but the meaning is clear: _it's not the same._

She can't help what she feels, he knows that. It's not her fault. But the hurt and sense of betrayal roil, because it isn't fair to _him_. It's selfish and he hates feeling this way, but Force damn it… This anger isn't him, but he can't help it – all these years, and _this_ is what happens? How long has he waited for her to look at him with the same heartfelt expression he's seen her gaze at Skywalker with, from a distance?

"What is it, then? Is his cock bigger than mine or something?"

Crude, especially for him. It's a shock to hear it come out of his own mouth.

Ryn blinks. "Excuse me?" she says faintly, and Ferus crosses his arms, knowing he should stop, knowing what he's saying is wrong and awful, but four months' worth of hurt silence won't stay down anymore and it's building on top of each other.

(He's not entirely sure if he wants to stop it.)

"His cock. I presume you've seen it, since you're head over heels in love with him. Is he better in bed than me? Does he talk dirty? I bet you absolutely love it, Areth'ryn Orun. He's probably everything you've ever dreamed of."

She gives him a horrified look, as if she can't believe what's coming out of his mouth either. "He is a married man, I would _never_ – don't you _dare_ say –"

But Ferus just charges on. "He's got enough influence with the Council to give you back your freedom." (It's a lie, Anakin doesn't have that power at all -) "Is that what that meeting was about, last week?"

"That was a routine convening and you know it, Ferus Olin!"

(Full name. She's furious at him.)

Yes, he does know it was a routine convening, but he doesn't care. "Have you been 'negotiating' with him?" he sneers, hating himself for it. It feels so unnatural. (Maybe under other circumstances, she'd laugh at him and tell him to stop being a dickhead.) "I promised you I'd do everything I could for you, but I clearly wasn't enough, was I, Ryn? I always thought I meant more to you than just being a convenient partner for bed, but I suppose not. You barely even know Skywalker and you had to go spreading your legs for him!"

The look she gives him – hard and cold and utterly disgusted – silences him in less than a second. "Get out," she says. He's heard that tone before; demanding, constrained with fury, but never directed at him.

He swallows shakily, and his own anger disintegrates, replaced instead by shock. _Oh Force. Oh, Force, did I really just…_

Yes. Yes, he did say those things.

"Ryn, I…"

"I can't believe you – after everything, Ferus, I –" The state of her incoherency is a testament to how deeply his words cut, shattering years of trust and friendship within a mere few angry seconds. "Just – just leave."

"I'm sorry," he whispers weakly, but it's too late for apologies and there's no way he'll ever be able to take back those words. Ryn just glares at him, full of cold restraint. He'd rather she'd yell at him, throw things at him, swear, attack him for those horrid things he accused her of – _anything_ but this awful, punishing silence.

"Please leave, Ferus. And – and don't come back any time soon."

Fury and betrayal hinges in her voice, and he thinks that maybe this time, this won't be a fight they can recover from.

He obeys her. He's never been able to do anything else, when it comes to doing what Ryn wants. He makes his way to the door in shamed silence, risking a glance back. Her pale face is streaked by silent tears. _I made her cry_, he thinks, and his heart clenches in guilt and pain. _I hurt her. Spreading her legs – oh, smart, Ferus, really smart…_

At first he thinks he's laughing, until he feels tears sliding down his cheeks, shoulders hitching and breath jerky. He jumps into his speeder, and rushes off into the night traffic aimlessly, desperate to leave this all behind. Perhaps he'll wake up tomorrow and it'd have been a dream, an awful nightmare –

But the tears streaming down his cheeks are brutal evidence that this is no nightmare.

(Skywalker always did call him an ass. Turns out he was right all along.)


	3. in confined spaces

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of Ryn Orun belongs to __DestructiveGlory__; I am simply borrowing her for the purposes of this story._

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><p>This part is rated M for het sexual situations.<p>

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><p>(3)<p>

**in confined spaces**

"_Ouch! Ferus! That was my arm."_

"_Sorry. I can't see anything."_

"_It's not that dark."_

"_Ryn, we're in the closet. It's very dark. It's als- _ouch_!" Her elbow collided with a rib as she squirmed on top of him. The friction of her against his groin made him react in the predictable manner. "Maybe this isn't a good idea."_

_Cramped into a claustrophobia-inducing space and half sitting, half standing against a wall, it was a wonder either of them could move around at all. "Don't be ridiculous," Ryn scoffed playfully, "it's a brilliant idea. Trust me, you'll enjoy it." He imagined she cocked an eyebrow as she wriggled on top of him again, making him moan as his sex stirred further. "In fact, I think you're already enjoying it."_

"_Well, yes, but – a _closet_? In the Temple, no less? It's so cramped," he managed to complain, even as she practically tore his shift off. _And uncivilised_._

_(But then again, that was one of the things about Ryn he loved the most.)_

"_That's the point," she responded, fingers making quick work of his trousers. "There's nothing wrong with a bit of adventure."_

_She said this a lot to him, when she dragged him out to places he'd never dared dream of going. He loved it, he did, but sometimes he wondered if she was intentionally trying to spice up their sex life, and worried that he wasn't adventurous or spontaneous enough, or too boring a lover for her. More than that, he worried that she knew it too, and was tiring of it. Was that why she felt the need to drag him out to daring places, and make him engage in something more exciting than his methodical lovemaking –?_

"Gunh, Ryn _–" __he hissed when she slid down his body and closed her mouth around his straining erection. Even though he couldn't see it, he could feel her smirk around it, teasing a shudder from him. His head smacked back against the wall with a 'thud' but he barely felt the pain, wrenched out of reality by the ecstasy Ryn was wreaking on his body._

"_Enough," he said hoarsely, but she kept going. He tried to stop his hips from bucking and he choked when her tongue swirled around the tip of his leaking tip. He could feel his release tightening in his balls and he gripped her shoulder in warning. "R-Ryn! I'm – I'm going to –"_

_She pulled away suddenly and he groaned, but whether this was in relief or disappointment, he didn't know. Her hands pushed him back against the inside wall of the closet, so that he was smashed up against it, almost on the floor, and he heard her deftly strip the remainder of her clothes from her body. The smell of sex filled their confined space and he slid down the rest of the way to the floor and pulled her down with him. (Well, maybe she pushed him down more than he pulled her, but the concept was more or less the same.) Ryn pressed her lips to his in a crushing kiss, hard enough to bruise his mouth, and he braced his hands on her hips as she took charge. She gripped him and teased the head of his erection with fingers that knew exactly what made him go crazy, before she moved up and lowered herself onto him with a barely stifled gasp._

_Ferus fought the urge to arch into her and yank her down onto him. His head collided with the wall again but he certainly didn't hear it that time, because the sensation of Ryn rising and falling on him was enough to make him shout incoherently. She swallowed it with a kiss, stilling when he filled her completely._

"_Shh," she whispered with laughter in her voice. "Someone might hear us."_

_The thought of Master Windu – or, even worse, Master Yoda – coming across them defiling a Temple closet was a fleeting fear, because she started moving, shattering his world with pleasure. He began to thrust in time with her movements, sweat dripping down his face. His balls tightened again and he choked for words, knowing this time he wouldn't be able to hold his release. Ryn pulled his hand towards her clit and he took the hint, rolling his thumb over the sensitive flesh, at first gently then with more pressure until she was writhing on his lap, shaking and breathily moaning._

"_Oh Force, Ferus –" she gasped, and when he thrust into her again she clenched around him as she came, moaning and trembling. It was enough to send him spiralling over the edge – he thrust once, twice more, and felt himself come apart. His face was pressed into her sweaty shoulder as he groaned his release, shuddering into her, and finally they collapsed against each other, breathing heavily and spent._

"_I love you," he whispered against her flushed skin. She sighed – happily? Exhaustedly? – and ran her fingers through his damp hair._

"_Mmm," she hummed, then said, "See? I told you you'd enjoy it."_


	4. distract me

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of Ryn Orun belongs to __DestructiveGlory__; I am simply borrowing her for the purposes of this story._

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><p>This part is rated M for slash sexual situations.<p>

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><p>(4)<p>

**distract me**

He'd once told Kenobi that everybody was his friend, but no-one was his particular friend.

That was a lie. He's had friends – true friends. Master Tachi and Darra and Tru. They're dead now, but they were his friends, people he cared about.

And Ryn. Ryn was his true friend, quite possibly the only real friend he had left.

_Was_ and _had_ being the key words there.

They've had fights before. Bad ones, ones that were blown over the day after, fights that lasted a week, fights that were settled by sex. But never fights like _this_, never fights that made them both burst into tears or that made his temper snap enough to accuse her of things he knows aren't true. He feels like a first class bastard – she must have felt that way about him too, because she threw him out and told him not to come back for a long time.

He wonders if it's worth going back at all.

_She doesn't love you. She'll never love you._

Self-pity, which is how he finds himself outside Obi-Wan Kenobi's private apartment in 500 Republica.

"Ferus?" Kenobi says in surprise when he answers the door. There's a surprising lack of security for the Chancellor, but Ferus supposes Obi-Wan must have deemed it unnecessary. "What are you doing here? Is everything – are you all right?"

He's always liked Kenobi – a good man, considerate and compassionate and someone he's always considered a friend. Maybe not a particular friend, but close enough. He's ushered in, given a glass of water, and made to sit on the couch while he drinks. Kenobi rests a hand on his back, and Ferus tries not to lean into the touch.

"Do you need to talk about something?"

Ferus shakes his head. Kenobi has enough problems on his plate at the moment – for Force's sake, this is _Chancellor_ of the _New Republic_ he's with, sitting on his couch and being fussed over! The man is busy enough without his problems adding to his life. "No. It'll be fine. I just… I just wanted…"

A friend. Company. A distraction. Something to keep his mind off Ryn. Kenobi seems to realise this and frowns, noting their physical closeness. But he doesn't move away, and hasn't pulled his hand away yet either. Something sparks between them, if only for a moment. Ferus has always found Kenobi physically attractive – not enough to entertain fantasies, but there's a sense of appreciation that now, sitting so close and in such a distraught state of mind, jolts straight to his groin.

Kenobi wets his lips. "Ferus, I think –"

He doesn't get to hear what Kenobi thinks, because he kisses him instead, in what he will later consider a moment of temporary insanity. Kenobi doesn't move at all for some time, then relaxes into the kiss and parts his lips when Ferus prompts him to. Before the kiss can become more heated – because it is, Ferus can feel the tremors of it building behind it – Kenobi pulls back, watching him closely with a slight frown.

"Are you certain this is what you want?"

Ferus nods shakily and Kenobi doesn't mention the tear sliding down his face. There's not much talking after this, and Ferus is grateful for it. He doesn't want to talk about Ryn or their fight, or even think about it. This is a distraction, nothing more, and Kenobi knows it. Kenobi lets him kiss him inelegantly again before pulling him off the couch and suggesting they move somewhere a bit more comfortable.

Kenobi's bedroom is bare of personal belongings and flashy accessories, as simple as it had been when he'd been a Jedi. It was mostly filled with datapads and forms and folders and books, strangely untidy for a man like Obi-Wan who was renowned for keeping his space in meticulous order. The room strikes Ferus as quite sad, and he briefly wonders if Obi-Wan's professional life ever gives him a moment to breathe. It's unlikely, seeing as how it has invaded even the most intimate part of his life.

Noticing Ferus looking around the room, Kenobi sighs and glances guiltily at the pile of work on his desk. "Sorry about the mess," he murmurs, but Ferus doesn't particularly care for talk at the moment, or to hear apologies that aren't necessary. He clumsily presses his lips against Obi-Wan's, stifling a moan when their hips align and his aching hardness rubs the answering arousal through layers of clothes.

Shirts and pants are quickly stripped. He's unused to seeing Obi-Wan like this – still courteous, but barely restraining himself and practically shaking from the effort of holding back. How long has it been for this man? He doesn't get to ask because they manage to stumble over to the bed, nearly tripping over clothes in effort to get there. He ends up straddling Kenobi, thrusting against him and gripping his hair. Kenobi shivers in his hold and kisses his skin where neck and shoulder meet, one hand resting on the small of Ferus's back and the other clenched on Ferus's thigh.

It's desperate and messy, filled with grunts and moans and rocking hips and trembling, sweat-slicked bodies. Ferus comes first, with a loud groan torn from the back of his throat and hips wildly bucking against Obi-Wan's as a gentle hand milks him of his seed. He tries not to collapse against him but his body feels like rubber, and pushes them down onto the bed. Mind numbed with pleasure from his orgasm, he doesn't have the strength to keep thrusting against Obi-Wan, but he does wrap his hand around the Chancellor's slick length, pumping it and encouraging him to come.

He's never seen anyone so controlled when they orgasm. Kenobi shudders and clenches his jaw, hips straining against jerking, when he comes. Ferus tiredly strokes his hair, trying to make him relax, and finally Kenobi slumps against him, gasping and sated. Ferus wonders how truly satisfying it was for him, if he enjoyed it at all.

The space between them is sticky, but they're both too exhausted to care. A sheet is pulled up over their bodies, a delayed attempt at modesty, but it doesn't really matter anymore because after Obi-Wan turns over and Ferus lies on his back, blearily staring at the ceiling, they fall asleep within seconds of each other.

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><p>Ferus doesn't know how long he's slept for when the loud beeping of a comm. link wakes him. It's not his, because he faintly remembers it being left in another room. A beside light is switched on the bed shifts as Obi-Wan rolls over to answer it.<p>

"Kenobi."

He only half-listens to the conversation. Something about complications with a legislation, some Senators being noncompliant and creating difficulties for the 'Humane Overruling Act', whatever that is, and a lot of frustrated sighs on Obi-Wan's end. The conversation ends perhaps ten minutes later, by which time Ferus pulled himself up into a sitting position, keeping the sheet covering the lower half of his body. A glance at the chrono on the wall tells him it's barely past midnight.

Obi-Wan puts his comm. link down and nearly does a double-take when he notices Ferus. He blinks, and gives him a faintly puzzled, worried look, as if surprised he didn't leave. "I didn't expect you'd stay," he says uncertainly, and Ferus sighs. "I apologise for waking you."

"It's all right," Ferus says, and adjusts the sheet around his hips. "Do you always get calls in the middle of the night?"

Obi-Wan smiles, but there's something sad behind it. "Well, for perspective, I can't remember the last time I slept a night all the way through," he quips. The biting wit is muted, because there's too much truth behind this, and Ferus chews his lower lip, wondering if he ought to go and let Obi-Wan get as much sleep as he can.

"Did you want me to leave?"

"Now?" Obi-Wan shakes his head, and turns the bedside light off. "Don't be ridiculous, it's the middle of the night. You can stay. I don't mind."

Ferus shifts under the sheets, still naked, and cups his hand over his groin to prevent arousal, but it doesn't work. He hisses as he hardens, and flushes in embarrassment. "Sorry," he apologises, hiding his burning face, because even though it's too dark to see he knows Obi-Wan will be able to sense his arousal through the Force. But Obi-Wan just lets out an amused sound and reaches for Ferus. He's hard as well, and they quickly fall back into a pattern of thrusting and strangled groans. This time Obi-Wan shouts when release hits him, hips bucking desperately against Ferus's, and Ferus follows quickly, his groan lost in ecstasy.

Obi-Wan rubs his shoulders, and whispers "thank you". Ferus's hand lingers on Obi-Wan's hip, thumb making small movements on heated, sweaty skin, and tries not to think about Ryn, letting the feel of Obi-Wan's hands on his shoulders soothe him to sleep.


	5. iou, part one

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of Ryn Orun belongs to __DestructiveGlory__; I am simply borrowing her for the purposes of this story._

* * *

><p>(5)<p>

**i.o.u.**

1/2

It was early in the morning – hours before sunrise – when Obi-Wan was woken for the fourth time that night by an urgent call on his comm. link. Even though it had only been two weeks Ferus was used to it. He was a light sleeper and Obi-Wan was always very mindful of him when he answered the calls but he woke anyway, often catching the end of a hushed conversation in the next room.

"Obi-Wan…" Ferus murmured, keeping his eyes closed as Obi-Wan came back to bed. "I need to go back to Bellassa."

In other words, he was ending their short-lived affair. Perhaps a strange time to reveal his intentions, but if he didn't say it now when they both couldn't care about anything other than sleep then he'd have to say it when they were awake, and that'd make this awkward. As usual. Obi-Wan nodded tiredly and stifled a yawn. "I understand," he said, just like that. In a way, Ferus was relieved that this meant their affair was a no-strings-attached, (relatively) guiltless one. Practically ideal.

They managed to catch another two hours of sleep before the wake-up alarm went off.

"Ferus," Obi-Wan said hesitantly as they dressed, turned away from each other for semblance of modesty. (It seemed foolish somehow, after the last two weeks, but they did anyway.) "I trust I can rely on your discretion about this?"

Ferus's hands froze on his belt and shot a glance over at Obi-Wan. _What makes you think you can't?_

Seeing his shock, Obi-Wan was quick to rectify, "I'm not calling your character into judgement. I know you wouldn't make this public, I just…" He trailed off and pinched the bridge of his nose. It made him look, as usual, very tired, and as if the weight of the galaxy rested on his shoulders.

Which, come to think of it, it did.

Somehow at this, the thought of Obi-Wan questioning his morals wasn't nearly as shocking as the thought of Obi-Wan feeling as though he _had_ to question. It almost rendered their affair useless, on his end at any rate. "I understand," Ferus said softly, feeling pity now rather than insulted. "I swear you have nothing to worry about."

Obi-Wan's relief was palpable, but it made Ferus feel ill. "Thank you," the Chancellor said. And that was just it, wasn't it? He was the Supreme Chancellor of the New Republic. _Everything_ he did in his private life could be called into question by the public. "Is there anything I can… do for you?"

"I didn't do this because I wanted payment. You don't have to buy my silence," Ferus said, feeling just a little affronted, but stopped when Obi-Wan held up his hands in reassurance.

"I know, but consider it a favour I owe you. These last two weeks have been… much appreciated." Tired and stressed as he looked, there was an air of tension that seemed to have slightly lifted over the past weeks. _Yeah, sex can do that…_ Frankly, Ferus couldn't think of anyone who needed it more than Obi-Wan. "If there's anything at all I can help you with," Obi-Wan continued, "please let me know. I'll do whatever I can."

A favour. Right. _To the outsider it'd look like a bribe for my silence._ Now he felt ill _and_ dirty, but still said, "Thanks."

"Good luck, Ferus. I wish you all the best."

"You too, Obi-Wan. May the Force be with you."


	6. iou, part two

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of Ryn Orun belongs to __DestructiveGlory__; I am simply borrowing her for the purposes of this story._

* * *

><p>(5)<p>

**i.o.u.**

2/2

_If there's anything at all I can help you with, please let me know. I'll do whatever I can._

Ferus gritted his teeth and tried to refocus his attentions on slicing. It was a routine practice to make sure he was keeping up with the latest technological advancements – these days, it seemed like he could turn his head for a second and something new and vicious had popped up. Staying on top in his line of business with Roan was beyond important – innocent lives depended on his skills, and he couldn't keep letting himself get distracted.  
><em><br>If there's anything at all I can help you with –_

"Stop it!" he snapped at the nearly innocent computer. From the other side of the room, Roan raised his eyebrows and Ferus smiled weakly, gesturing to the device as if he'd been talking to it instead of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Two months after the offer, almost three after his fight with Ryn… He sighed. There wasn't a day that went by he didn't think about her – however much he tried. It was agony every time he remembered the way they parted, the things he said to her…

_Yes, and then he sighed longingly as his heart ached for her. Should have been a poet instead of a Jedi-turned-Slicer, Olin, you've got enough angst for it._

He scowled at his thoughts, which were in a voice that sounded entirely too much like Ryn.

So here he was, still pining. Regretting his words and the way they parted. How would she react, he wondered, if he went back and pleaded forgiveness? If he confessed to her that he had an affair? Would she even care about the latter?

_That's not fair. She hasn't had an affair with Skywalker. You're the one who _actually_ went off and had sex. With Skywalker's former Master, at that._

This only made him shift with guilt.

_If there's anything at all I can –_

_Oh for the love of –!_

He pushed his chair back, abandoning his slicing efforts. He wanted to get over this, just move on with his life, but it wasn't that simple. He had a good life on Bellassa, but it wasn't _complete_. He didn't think it would ever be without Ryn, who was still back on Coruscant, a noble hostage to the Jedi Order. And still very mad at him, with good reason.  
><em><br>If there's anything at all I can help you with, please let me know. I'll do whatever I can._

It was so tempting to take Obi-Wan up on that. Ferus strummed his fingers on the computer panel. He'd been thinking about this for well over two months. Obi-Wan didn't have the power just yet but he certainly had influence, and now that the Order had a Senate seat then maybe, _technically_, Obi-Wan had enough sway with the Council and by association Loreth…

Would Ryn hate it, if he interfered so intimately with her duty and life? She had pride, but surely she longed for her freedom as well. He _knew_she did, the wistful longing in her eyes when she talked about Loreth and in the way she danced, wild and barbaric and reminiscent of her homeplanet. How many years would she have to remain with the Jedi? It was inhumane, what she was going through.

Maybe he could help free her.

(And maybe, he secretly thought, she'd appreciate it. Forgive him for his thoughtless, harsh words. Love him for it.)

After all, Obi-Wan _had _promised him a favour… Ferus couldn't think of anyone better to ask than the Supreme Chancellor of the New Republic to intervene, let alone one who was on the verge of passing the Humane Overruling Act. Perfect timing, almost.

Favour. The word sneered in his mind again. _It wasn't a bribe for silence. It's just a favour, he promised._

He wet his lips and glanced at his comm. link, not nearly torn enough.

* * *

><p>It takes him five days to make a decision – not because he's hesitant about helping Ryn (he could never be hesitant about that), but because it's that word <em>favour<em> in combination with the feeling of _bribe _when logically he knows it isn't.

It takes twelve days after that to get in contact with Obi-Wan, not because of communication difficulties but because according to the HoloNet, Chancellor Kenobi allegedly has a mental breakdown and flees his office for more than a week. Whether or not this is true is hard to discern – after all, this is the HoloNet – but at the end of the twelve days Obi-Wan makes a very public appearance to reassure the New Republic he is in perfect mental health and had actually been on an 'urgent business call'. (Whether or not this is true is also hard to discern.) Ferus watches the holorecording of his publicised reappearance with a strange feeling, noticing the firmer way Obi-Wan holds himself, the new alertness in his eyes, and a certainsmile he's never seen on his face.

It doesn't stop him from calling.

* * *

><p><em>"Good evening, you've reached the office of Supreme Chancellor Kenobi of the New Republic. How may I assist you?"<em>

Ferus recognised the female cultured tone – (Not quite a Coruscanti accent. Maybe Stewjonian?) – as belonging to Obi-Wan's secretary, the young blonde girl he'd met once or twice but whose name he couldn't remember. "This is Ferus Olin. Would I be able to speak to Chancellor Kenobi?"

_"Is your call urgent?"_

"Well, no, but –"

_"Please hold the line; your call will be transmitted shortly."_

By 'shortly', she actually meant 'two hours', so Ferus didn't have anything else to do except sit and listen to his comm. link play the main theme from a popular opera. He'd almost fallen asleep on the couch when his comm. link beeped and a firm voice filtered through. "_Kenobi_."

Ferus sat up, blinking the blur from his eyes. For the barest second he wondered if he was really talking to Obi-Wan Kenobi, for the voice was totally devoid of its previous exhaustion. Something just sounded… different. Stronger. "Obi-Wan, it's Ferus."  
><em><br>"Ferus? How long have you been waiting on the line for?"_

"Uh, not long, but –"

_"I gave you my personal comm. link code, didn't I?"_

"You did, but I didn't want to disturb you."

On the other end, Obi-Wan laughed. _"Honestly, Ferus, you'd be a welcome distraction."_

This sentence just flooded his mind with the memory of Obi-Wan's body flush against his, sweat-slicked and straining in the darkness as they desperately sought release. He coughed and rubbed the back of his neck._ Distraction. Yeah. _

_"How can I help you?"_

"I wanted to call in the favour," he forced himself to say without hesitation, knowing that if he didn't then he would never ask.

There was a pause and his heart thudded painfully. _"Of course,"_Obi-Wan eventually replied, sounding neutral.

"But – but if you can't, then that's fine –" Ferus was quick to defend himself. _It's not payment for silence, it isn't, I promise –_

Obi-Wan's laughter came through again. _"I know it isn't, Ferus, you needn't defend yourself. If it is within my power, I will do it."_

Well, Ferus wasn't sure if it was in his power.

Yet.

So he closed his eyes and asked.


	7. that went well

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of Ryn Orun belongs to __DestructiveGlory__; I am simply borrowing her for the purposes of this story._

* * *

><p>(6)<p>

**that went well**

"I slept with someone."

Usually he's less tactless than this, but the only way he would have ever been able to confess is if he just told the truth straight. Still, he wishes he had the common sense to use a bit of subtlety. Ryn blinks, as if in shock, and moves back, slinging the drying towel over her forearm. "Oh," she says neutrally, face and tone betraying nothing. "I see. Did you… enjoy it?"

It isn't a slight against him; there's nothing cruel in her voice. Somehow that's even worse than her crying or getting mad at him. Where he a vengeful person he'd go on to say something like _it was the best fuck I've had in years, thanks for asking_, but he isn't a vengeful person and anyway it's not like she had an affair of her own. It'd be a lie anyway. Obi-Wan was good but… he wasn't _Ryn_. No-one could be Ryn.

(And he feels too guilty about the whole thing anyway.)

"It was… nice," he admits, and he thinks he sees a flash of hurt cross her face. "But – but it wasn't like you think it is!"

She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "You came here to tell me you've slept with someone, Ferus. What else am I supposed to think?"

"Not that." He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, wondering how to tell her. Wondering how she'll take it. "It's – it's complicated."

"Everything's complicated with you, Ferus," she sighs.

(It's true.)

Ferus twists his hands together, and changes the subject. "The renegotiations. How did they go?"

She doesn't answer the question. "How do you know about the renegotiations?" she says instead, _sotto voce_and taken aback. "Only Loreth and the Jedi Council and the Chancellor know about them. Ferus, if there's been a security leak you need to tell me now –"

He winces. "It's not a security leak."

"Then how –?"

"I told you… I slept with somebody."

She stares at him for a very long moment, trying to comprehend this revelation. "You – you slept with somebody so that my hostage situation could be renegotiated," she says haltingly.

"Yes."

She presses her fingertips to her temples tightly, taking a semi-controlled breath.

"Ryn?" Ferus says tentatively, moving closer. "Aren't you… happy?"

There's a tense second, then all the air in the room seems to be sucked out as something shatters. "Of course I'm not _fucking happy!_" she screams, and Ferus backpedals in shock. "It's my _life_, Ferus! _My life!_ You _know_ how much it means to me, but you're just like everyone else who thinks that it's okay to play around with it as if it means nothing! Well it's _not_ okay, Ferus Olin! It isn't, _damn you_–"

It's nothing short of frightening, watching her lose control like this. She never loses control, _never_; not tempered, steady Ryn, _screaming_– "But I don't think it means nothing, Ryn!" Ferus cries in protestation, like a fool, like a man, like an idiot. "I – I gave you your freedom!"

"I didn't _damn well ask you for it, did I?_ You sold your body to the highest bidder for another contract I had no say in! How _dare_you play with my life so carelessly –"

"It's not like that –" is all he can pathetically defend before Ryn – _she's crying, I did that_– lunges for two plates on the draining rack and hurls them at his head, one after the other.

_Duck, you fool!_ His mind screams, but all he can do is stand there in shock as the first one shatters on his head. The other follows it but he doesn't feel that one, reeling from the exploding agony of the first. He stumbles backwards and his arm hits the wall. It's the only thing keeping him standing right now, and in a daze he gingerly touches his burning head. _I'm bleeding_, he realises faintly in between Ryn's harsh gasps for breath.

"Get out!" she hisses, holding another plate like the projectile weapon anything can become in her capable hands. "Just get out, _get out_–"

Even though he obeys she throws it at him anyway. This time it misses, but only because he staggers before it can hit his head, not because her aim is off. The door slams shut behind him, and he thinks he can hear her crying. His heart aches and he longs to turn around and go back and comfort her, but, well, he doesn't think he's her favourite person at the moment. (And quite possibly will never be again. That thought hurts more, so he tries to ignore it.)  
><em><br>Congratulations, Olin. That went splendidly. Encore?_

Ferus scowls, and dimly he notices that his vision is blurring. _Oh. That can't be good. It must be a concussion._

(He deserves it.)

(Or maybe it's because he's crying as well.)


	8. it's not me, it's you

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of Ryn Orun belongs to __DestructiveGlory__; I am simply borrowing her for the purposes of this story._

* * *

><p>(7)<p>

**it's not me, it's you**

So, his timing left something to be desired, but no-one had ever accused Ferus Olin of sheer idiocy prior to this occasion.

(He wished they had, though. It might have made him think through things a bit more. Charging in headfirst never ended well – for the love of the Force, that was something that _Skywalker _did, not him. Of course, the fact that he was partially trying to channel Skywalker had absolutely nothing to do with it.)

"Another?" the bartender asked, wiping a glass with a surprisingly clean cloth. Ferus blinked in surprise, glancing down at his fourth empty glass, wondering when he'd drunk it. He blearily nodded and the bartender pushed another in front of him. He'd never had alcohol before this night. Never had a reason to, really, but the liquid was surprisingly addictive, despite the foul taste. His head felt light, a pleasant dulled sensation.

_Huh_, he thought as he drained the glass. _So this is why people get drunk. To make things…_

He couldn't think of the word.  
><em><br>…not hurt? Yeah. To make things not hurt. Huh._

The bartender was watching him with a funny expression. "No need to gulp that stuff down, son."

In defiance (and he felt a thrill run through him at the thought), he knocked back another glass with an unfocused glare, as if to say _take that!_

He wondered what Ryn would have to say, if she were there. Probably laugh.

Or tell him _no_.

On hindsight, he probably shouldn't have charged over to her apartment the way he did, no plan and prudence be damned. But didn't she _like_ that kind of spontaneous stuff? At any rate, he wasn't sure if she'd forgiven him for his short-lived affair yet. (After all, even though he'd forgiven her for giving him a concussion with those kitchen plates, he wasn't sure if he'd forgiven her for the whole Anakin thing. He knew, _logically_, it wasn't her fault.)

(It _wasn't_, damn it.)

Usually if things didn't work out well at the start, they wouldn't end well, but trying to be spontaneous appeared to kill off any common sense he may have possessed.

"Ferus?" Ryn had said, startled, when she opened her door. "What are you doing here?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I wanted to see you. I – I needed to ask something."

Ryn gazed at him sadly, pushing back a strand of her black hair behind her ear. "Sure. Come in."

He hesitated before following her into her apartment. "You're not going to throw a dinner plate at me, are you?"

This made her laugh. "No, not this time, I promise." She gestured towards the kitchenette. "Are you hungry?"

"Uh, no, no, that's quite all right. I'm fine."

She sat down on the couch opposite him. "So, what brings you here? I haven't seen you since…"

Ferus winced. _Since_.

"Well, here's the thing, Ryn. I – well, that is to say, you have been one of my closest friends since childhood, and I'm – well – despite everything that happened last year – "

Force, he was rambling. She was even starting to look _bored_. He swallowed. _Spontaneity! _He reminded himself.

(Which, again on hindsight, he shouldn't have done.)

"Ryn, I – I love you. And I know things haven't been good between us for a while, but I know we can fix it, because – because I love you, and I want you to marry me."

She blinked at him, striking features smacked with shock. "You want me to – _what?_"

He repeated himself.

"Oh, Ferus," she said, voice thick with grief and regret, and his heart plummeted faster than a turbolift rushing down the side of 500 Republica.

"Ryn?"

She shook her head.

"No, Ferus. I – I care for you, deeply. And I always will. Aside from the fact that was possibly the worst and must unflattering proposal I've ever received, I'm not going to marry you."

(At least she'd softened the blow.)

(A bit.)

"But – I – why?" he'd spluttered.

"You deserve an answer, but I…" She trailed off, and it clicked.

"I see," he said, far more coldly than he ever thought possible from himself. "This is because of Anakin, isn't it?"

"Don't bring him into this, Ferus," she'd said sternly, eyebrows drawn together in a pained frown, and things only went downhill from there. "How would you feel if you woke up one morning and realised that everything you thought you knew about yourself, you might have been getting wrong your whole life?" She sighed, face tense. "That's what I feel like, half the time."

She'd looked so close to tears, and the worst thing about it was knowing he couldn't do anything to make her feel better. He could never win fights with Ryn, so it was foolish of him to argue with her when everything else that evening had gone so horribly, terribly wrong.

"You don't _get_ it, do you, Ferus?" she finally exploded. "It's not just me – it's _you_. In fact, it's _especially _you!"

Ferus blinked. He was almost positive she was supposed to say, "it's not you, it's me" again, but then again Ryn had never been one for following conventions.

"…I don't…"

"For Force's sake, Olin – just think for a moment! When was the last time you did something for yourself? Not for me, for _you_. Something that has nothing to do with me. Can you tell me that, Ferus?"

He opened his mouth to give her an example –

And he realised that, no, he couldn't.

Because in that instant, he realised everything he'd ever done, since the age of fifteen, had been for Ryn. Centered around Ryn, about Ryn, because someone looked like Ryn or acted like Ryn. Because he wondered what Ryn would think about something he did. Ryn, Ryn, Ryn…

_Is that a bad thing?_

He didn't _think_it was. He fought the urge to chew on his lower lip. "So is that a… a 'no'?" he tried hesitantly, and her temper flared, sparking to the surface.

"It's a _definitely not_," she snapped, throwing up her arms. "Force, Ferus, what were you _thinking_? Why would you do this to us _now_, of all times?"

He couldn't exactly remember whether she'd ordered him out or if he'd stormed out on his own after this. There was a bit of (her) yelling in between so it was probably the former, because Ferus Olin didn't do things like storm out on women he loved, even if she'd just torn his heart to shreds and stomped on the pieces.

_This is why I'm not spontaneous_, he thought bitterly. Ryn's voice invaded the other side of his mind.  
><em><br>How would you feel if you woke up one morning and realised that everything you thought you knew about yourself, you might have been getting wrong your whole life?_

He was starting to think he was getting the feeling. Tossing back another drink, gagging at the burn it left in his throat, he ordered another one, sitting perfectly contentedly at the bench moodily nursing a drink until someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Uh, Olin? Is that you?"

He turned around, a bit too quickly apparently because for a moment his vision blurred before clearing. Then he wished his vision had kept on blurring, because then he wouldn't have to be looking at Anakin Skywalker straight in the face. "'Lo," he mumbled, and tried to rest his elbow on the edge of the table.

(He missed, and spilled some of his drink on his lap.)

"It _is _you," Skywalker said, eyebrows high. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting _drunk_." Ferus waved what was left of the drink around and the liquid sloshed against the rim a bit. Then he added, "_Duh_," for good measure.

_Ryn-stealing bastard, go – go screw something. Go screw that table. Yeah._

(So, he wasn't good at making up insults – no big deal.)

It turned out he said it aloud.

"…Who's Ryn?" Skywalker's stupid face contorted stupidly. "I don't – oh! Oh, you mean that girl at the Temple who isn't a Jedi, from Lorteth or something? Kriff, Olin, I've met her like _two times_…"

"_Loreth_, you idiot," Ferus grumbled into his glass. "You don't deserve her."

"…Right. Look, I don't know where you're bunkering down these days, so why don't I take you to the Temple –"

_I was bunking Ryn before you darn well came along and ruined everything like you always do. _"M'happy here. Jus' gemme another drink."

"I don't think that's a very good idea, Olin. Have you ever had a drink before this? Because –"

Then Ferus realised that he was talking to _Anakin Skywalker_, of all people, and spat, "Fuck you, Skywalker!" but it came out as "fuh-yooo Shkywalkerr," and instead of his fist smashing into Anakin's jaw as he'd planned, he staggered off his chair and the world spun around him. His head collided with Anakin's shoulder painfully, and he somehow ended up on the floor on his hands and knees, only to vomit all over obscenely polished boots.

"Oh, _come on_, I _just _polished those –!"

Ferus gagged. "Good," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and burst into tears.

("Man, and I thought _I_ had problems," Anakin muttered above him.)


	9. powers of persuasion

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of Ryn Orun belongs to __DestructiveGlory__; I am simply borrowing her for the purposes of this story._

* * *

><p>(8)<p>

**powers of persuasion**

Waking up with a throbbing head and brain-splitting pain was an unusual state for Ferus to be in, and quite unwelcome.

It wasn't too bad, all things considered. As long as he kept his eyes closed and pillow over his head, and everything stayed nice and quiet, he could concentrate on the throbbing and not about the previous day.

_Oh, Ryn…_

He sniffled pathetically under the covers, then flinched as something started hammering on his door.

"G'way," he mumbled.

_BANG BANG BANG._

Force that was obnoxious. It was also hurting his head.

He ignored the pounding on the door, hoping it would go away on its own. And he thought he'd been triumphant about it, too, until he heard his bedroom door open and something poked his side before pulling the covers off his head.

"Hey –!"

And he found himself looking at Anakin Skywalker.  
><em><br>Oh Force. I've died, and this is my hell. I will be forever tortured by Anakin Skywalker –_

"Nooo," he moaned faintly, and tried to tug the covers back up over his head. They were whipped off again a moment later, and Skywalker opened the blinds with a very frivolous use of the Force. Sunlight streamed into the bedroom, stinging Ferus's eyes and making him moan. "But why…?"

"Ferus Olin, get up now! It's a beautiful day and we're going to have lunch."

_I knew it. Anakin Skywalker is secretly a Sith Lord, and no-one ever believed me._

"Wh'time izzit?" he slurred, shielding his eyes against the brightness of the sun filtered through the window.

"Lunch time, of course! Sit up, Olin."

He unwillingly obeyed. _To the Force: I know I have not been the most loyal of servants, but I always had faith you would make my death more peaceful than my real life…  
><em>  
>"Here, drink this." Skywalker shoved a glass into his hands. Ferus blinked blearily at it, not quite seeing what it was, but took a mouthful anyway and immediately gagged, snorting some of the revolting liquid out his nose. "Sk-Skywalker, are you trying to <em>poison<em>me? This tastes like tar!"

Skywalker laughed somewhere off to the left, in his dresser. "It's my wife's hangover cure. Works like a charm. Come on, drink up. You'll feel better in no time."

Ferus tried to take another sip, and did everything he could to not spit it back out. "S'disgusting," he choked, but kept drinking it, and Anakin threw a shirt at his head.

* * *

><p>It took an hour to get out of the Temple, and thankfully his head hurt considerably less. Whatever was in that tar – <em>ahem, hangover cure<em>– worked pretty well, as Anakin promised it would. Which was how they came to be sitting at a stained table in a diner on one of the lower levels of Coruscant, surrounded by various questionable figures.

"How have, uh, things been for you?" Anakin asked after the droid rolled away, having taken their orders.

Ferus blinked at Anakin Skywalker. He half wondered if he was still drunk, and this was all some long alcohol-induced hallucination. Because this was _Anakin Skywalker_, of all people, he was talking to and having lunch with. The only thing that told him this wasn't a hallucination was that his head still faintly throbbed. "You found me drinking myself stupid last night and a total mess. How do you think things have been for me?"

Surprisingly, Anakin didn't snap back with an outraged response at Ferus's tart tone. He snorted and sat back in his chair instead, crossing his arms and looking contemplative. "Well, you've sure changed. Life outside the Order has loosened you up a bit. I always thought you were a stuck-up prat back then. So pompous."

"And I see you are as arrogant as ever."

Again, Anakin didn't snap back like Ferus expected him to. The Jedi simply sighed and shrugged, as if giving up fighting against a petulant child. Immediately Ferus felt ashamed of his attitude, and glanced around the diner. "What is this place?"

"Dex's Diner. Obi-Wan used to bring me here when I was younger. Food's pretty good – but whatever you do, don't ever look at the kitchen."

It took a few more long minutes of looking at everything in the diner except Anakin, but Ferus eventually admitted, "You've changed as well."

"I thought you said I was as arrogant as ever."

"Look, I –" He noticed Anakin's amused smirk. "Oh. You're teasing me."

"We were such pricks as kids, weren't we?"

"What do you mean 'we'?"

Anakin laughed, and suddenly the atmosphere of tension felt less thick. "Thank you," Anakin said to the servant droid which dropped two plates of… something… in front of them both.

"So," Anakin said after they'd started eating. (Well, after _he'd_started eating. Ferus prodded the lump on his plate cautiously, still contemplating how much he valued his life at the moment). "'Ryn-stealing bastard'?"

Ferus had the grace to flush, and focused on cutting up something he'd determined to be a steak of meat. "Did I actually call you that?"

"Before you threw up on my boots, yes."

Ferus winced. "Sorry. I… I wasn't exactly thinking straight."

"I gathered. What did you mean by it?"

"Why do you care?"

Anakin shrugged. "Look, if it was enough to get you drunk in the slums of Coruscant, I think it's worth talking about. It sounds like I'm caught in the middle of this somehow, and I want to know how and why."

"It's complicated." _Ha, well, if that isn't the understatement of the century… _"She's in love with you," Ferus elaborated, when Anakin waved an impatient fork dangerously at him.

His former childhood rival blinked. "Ryn? But she barely even knows me. I think I've spoken to her three times all together."

"That's what I said," Ferus muttered, then said louder, "Maybe 'love' is too strong. She's… infatuated. She met you last year and… something happened."

It didn't take long to explain Ryn's pull towards Anakin, nor did it take long for that to lead to him talking about The Fight, as he tended to call it. "We both said things we didn't mean," he sighed, playing with his 'food'. "I accused her of things that weren't real and I knew it, but I – I was _angry_. All these years, and she was the only woman I've ever been in love with. Everything I ever did was for her, even though she never demanded it. She never promised me anything in return, but I just started assuming that maybe she felt the same way. And I'm sure she did for a time. When she met you, things just… crashed and burned. Almost literally, actually. I've never thought of plates as potential weapons before, but after Ryn threw them at my head I've reconsidered their lethality."

Long silence.

"And?" Anakin prompted around a mouthful of meat.

Ferus winced at the unattractive sight. "And, what?"

"Why was she throwing plates at your head? You must have said something pretty awful."  
><em><br>And therein lies the problem._

"Look… Ryn was having a one-sided emotional affair." Ferus took a gulp of water, and admitted, "I had a real affair."

"You're an ass."

"I know."

"But if she doesn't love you, why would she get angry about you having an affair?"

Ferus shook his head. "It wasn't so much that I had the affair. That she could have handled, I think. It was more… _why _I decided to do it. It was only for two weeks, but it was what I thought I could achieve with it. For her."

"You had an affair with someone for her sake," Anakin said slowly. "And you thought she'd be… flattered?"

"No!" Ferus cried. "No, I – I thought – I don't know what I thought. After that first argument, all I wanted to do was – I don't know. It's stupid, but… I thought…" He sighed heavily, and whispered, "I thought maybe I could get her to love me."

Anakin looked sad at this. Ferus held back a bitter retort to the expression, instead choosing to stab at his food with more force than absolutely necessary. Anakin's pity was the _last_thing he wanted. "You can't buy love, Ferus."

"I _know _that, Skywalker," Ferus snapped. "I just wanted to do something for her. Since she was thirteen she was a hostage of the Jedi Order, and I couldn't do anything about it. But suddenly I had the chance to give her a life back."

"By sleeping with someone?" Anakin was barely hiding his disgust. To his credit, he pressed on, awkwardly, with, "It was… thoughtful of you, I suppose, but not exactly romantic."

Ferus nearly smashed his head into the table. "Look," he said quickly, "I know what you're thinking, and it's what Ryn thought as well. It wasn't like that. I wasn't selling myself. The first night was an accident. I was upset, and – and my… partner needed it. The next two weeks it became more of a mutual favour. When I called it off, I promised I would remain silent, and as thanks they asked if they could do anything for me, so I brought up Ryn's situation. They promised to help. And they did."

He trailed off, and Anakin finished the sentence. "And Ryn thinks you slept with this person to manipulate the system. Or that you were blackmailing someone."

"Yeah," Ferus sighed softly. "She accused me of selling my body to the highest bidder for another contract she had no say in. Said I was playing with her life carelessly. And that's not true – I know the person I slept with very well. I trust them. She didn't exactly give me a chance to explain that part, but she had a point. I didn't even ask her if it was what she wanted. I knew she never wanted to be in her situation, but she was so dutiful. I should have known better than to play in areas I wasn't invited. It's only been recently, before last night, that I told her what really happened between me and… the person."

Another long awkward silence.  
><em><br>I'm really good at these, aren't I?_

"So why were you drunk off your ass last night?"  
><em><br>Eloquent as always._

"I... tried to propose to her." Ferus winced again. "She said it was the worst and most unflattering proposal she's ever received."

Anakin watched him closely. "I'd like to say that was a surprise, but..."

"You're a prick."

"I know."

And for the first time in quite possibly their entire lives together, they shared something resembling a smile.

"Hey," Anakin said, after much contemplation, "the plates. Is that why you were in the Healing Halls a few months ago with a concussion and bits of ceramic in your head?"

Ferus bit back a smile and touched his head. "Ryn has a good aim."

Anakin snorted. "So who'd you sleep with, anyway?"

"I can't tell you." Anakin raised an eyebrow. "It's not that I don't trust you –" (he didn't, actually, but that was beside the point) "– it's just – the person I slept with, I gave my word I'd never tell anyone. For their sake, not mine."

"Force, Olin. Must have been someone with enough power to bring it to Obi-Wan's attention."

His made Ferus start. "How do you know that the Chancellor was involved?" he said _sotto voce_, looking around in worry. "Those negotiations were locked, completely inaccessible from the public –"

"I'm Obi-Wan's best friend," Anakin said, as if it explained why the sky was blue. "He tells me everything."

Ferus busied himself with dissecting the steak further, hoping he wasn't flushing. _Clearly not everything._

Thankfully, Skywalker remained oblivious. "He told me when he was negotiating Orun's situation. I didn't understand why at the time, because he was busy trying to pass the Humane Overruling Act, but you must have had some pretty good 'contacts' for it to become one of his top priorities."

Ferus shifted in his seat. "I suppose you could say that."

Anakin laughed, and took another mouthful. "Contacts, meaning –"

"I know what you mean," Ferus interrupted darkly.

"Not to mention your _powers_ of _persuasion _–"

_"Will you shut up."_


	10. it's my life

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of Ryn Orun belongs to __DestructiveGlory__; I am simply borrowing her for the purposes of this story._

* * *

><p>(9)<p>

**it's my life**

**one.**

She hasn't been able to stop thinking about him.

Ryn remembers when she was sexually awakened. She was older than other Lorethan girls, fifteen. Ferus was nineteen and she'd known him for two years already – she had so few friends in the Temple, but Ferus was definitely one. He'd resisted her increasingly overt advances, to his admirable credit, for another two years, citing that she was "too young".

(She didn't call him out on the fact that at thirteen she'd been chasing galactic criminals down and leading battles, so maybe his priorities were little bit… off?)

It was a slow build, steady and perfect, but of course nothing in her life usually stays the way she wants it to.

She doesn't know what she feels about the day she met Anakin Skywalker, but sometimes she thinks she hates it. A burst of passion, unexpected and terrifying, but enough to rock the very foundations of her life.

_How would you feel if you woke up one morning and realised that everything you thought you knew about yourself, you might have been getting wrong your whole life?_

(It hasn't fallen down. Yet.)

* * *

><p><strong>two.<strong>

The start of the day – five, nearly six weeks after she told Ferus to leave – begins poorly. She wakes to a cramping agony in her abdomen and her sheets soaked through with blood, and manages not to swear loudly when she realises that her period isn't actually due for another three days.

She has a headache and is very hungry when Kit contacts her with an unimpressed scowl and even worse news. "The Chancellor is calling for renegotiations?" Ryn repeats in disbelief. "Why?"

Kit's holoimage scowls again. _"I don't know why, but this is unacceptable."_

Unacceptable is right. Loreth isn't xenophobic, but they are very distrustful of other governments intervening in their affairs. She scowls heavily as well, watching Kenobi on the HoloNet newsfeed. This, she thinks, is the exact reason why they don't.

(She decides to wear her Don't-Fuck-With-Me clothes. See how Kenobi likes that.)

* * *

><p><strong>three.<strong>

"What do you mean, _he can't see me?_"

Her heart thuds at the voice, and nearly stops when she turns the corner and sees him.

Anakin Skywalker, in all his blinding glory, is right there in the room, towering over Kenobi's secretary. The Force crackles around him threateningly but not dangerously, and it's intoxicating.

The secretary is a young blonde number, but she isn't nearly the simpering pushover Ryn first takes her for. Her nostrils flare and she places her hands on her hips, glaring at Anakin. "Master Skywalker," she says coldly in an accent that isn't quite Coruscanti. "When I said he can't see you, I _meant _he can't see you! Chancellor Kenobi is very busy at the moment, and –"

"This is ridiculous! Let me talk to him –"

"Master Skywalker, leave now or I'll call security on you! Chancellor Kenobi cannot see you right now because he is preparing for a very important meeting, and I assure you he'll not be pleased if he is disturbed."

Something in this sentence makes Anakin give up. "Okay, okay, look," he says in defeat, slouching against the desk with a heavy frown. "Fine. Will you at least pass on a message for me?"

"Of course."

"Tell him I came by and I wanted to see how he was. I'm…" Anakin swallows. "I'm worried about him. And tell him to get in contact with me as soon as he can."

The girl writes this down. "I'll make sure he gets it."

For drama's sake – or so Ryn senses – Anakin starts to storm away, bumping into her on the way out. He turns to look at her and a flash of recognition passes his face. "Oh, hi," Anakin says distractedly. "Sorry."

"That's all right," she replies, and their eyes meet for a bare second before he continues storming away. A single second is enough – she feels her carefully constructed walls nearly crash all over again.

It takes every ounce of willpower to stop herself from crying.

(She misses Ferus. Ferus didn't make her feel like this, where she doesn't know anything about herself anymore.)

* * *

><p><strong>four.<strong>

It is only a matter of time, Obi-Wan Kenobi warns, before the public finds out about Ryn's situation, and the galactic scrutiny – according to him – will be devastating for both the Jedi and Loreth. This is why he has called for this private meeting; to enforce a renegotiation that satisfies Republic human rights laws, now that the Jedi have a Senate seat. The Jedi are now answerable to the Republic, and because of their contract Loreth – by default – can be held answerable to the Republic as well, and the way things are now, so soon after the Clone Wars, this can only turn out very, very badly if her noble hostage status gets out.

(Quite possibly even worse for the Order, and they can't afford any more bad publicity.)

"We can either do this here, in the privacy of my office, or it can be done in a few weeks before the entire galactic Senate when the Humane Overruling Act has been passed. The choice is yours."

His voice is low and soft, smooth and comforting – the perfect timbre for a politician to possess. It turns a threat into a friendly warning – Loreth knows it, and the Jedi know it, but it doesn't matter because her life is signed away once more.

* * *

><p><strong>five.<strong>

Legally, she is just a liaison to the Jedi Order. No longer a noble hostage – no longer will she be treated to the painful experiments and blood samples bestowed upon her by Yoda. She is required to reside at the Jedi Temple for one week every month and has the freedom to travel back and forth between Loreth and the Republic as she pleases. She is nothing more than a representative of Loreth. It is an agreement that both the Jedi and Loreth grudgingly settle for – but one, Chancellor Kenobi reassures, that will save them from the galaxy's merciless eye.

She's virtually free in all but name now.

Why, then, does it feel like she can't breathe anymore?

* * *

><p><strong>six.<strong>

Ferus visits her a few days after, and the truth comes spilling out.

_Hate _is not an emotion she feels keenly, but right now she's not sure who she hates more: Obi-Wan Kenobi, the person Ferus fucked, or Ferus himself.

At the moment, only Ferus is the only one in front of her.

"Of course I'm not _fucking happy_! It's my _life_, Ferus!" she screams. It hurts her throat, but damn it all it feels good and so horrible at the same time. She doesn't know what she feels anymore, what she wants. Ferus flinches – _serves him right_. "_My life_! You _know_ how much it means to me, but you're just like everyone else who think that it's okay to play around with it as if it means nothing! Well it's _not_ okay, Ferus Olin! It isn't, _damn you_–"

"But I don't think it means nothing, Ryn! I – I gave you your freedom!"

"I didn't _damn well ask you for it, did I?_ You sold your body to the highest bidder for another contract I had no say in! How _dare _you play with my life so carelessly –"

"It's not like that," Ferus protests, but she doesn't care, it hurts too much to listen and she thinks maybe she's crying again but she can't tell, and before she knows what she's doing she grabs two plates from the drying rack and hurls them at Ferus's head, one after the other.

He doesn't manage to duck.

* * *

><p><strong>seven.<strong>

It's a year after the renegotiations and two weeks after Ferus's unflattering, embarrassing proposal when Anakin Skywalker knocks on her door. It starts with a tentative smile and him awkwardly saying, "I think we need to talk."

Anakin Skywalker is a bright spark in a darkening galaxy, full of life and power and intensity. He stirs her blood in a way Ferus never can, and – actually, that isn't entirely true, but it's _different_. He seems to know it – it makes him embarrassed, actually, and sad. He gazes at her for a long time, thankfully without pity (she doesn't think she could take that), finally _seeing _her. In that tense second it feels like they're in a different world, but the moment passes quickly. She wonders if he feels what she does – a denied bond, urging to be forged…

Whether or not he does, she'll never know, but she does know that he felt at least _something_.

"Ryn… I think we missed out on something," he finally says softly, after a short talk. "But… I don't think it's what you think it is." He sighs and holds her hand tenderly. "I'm sorry. I can't give you what you want."

It ends with her crying silently, feeling like a fool, and him kissing her gently on the cheek. He leaves after that – they barely know each other, after all, and probably never will.

_How would you feel if you woke up one morning and realised that everything you thought you knew about yourself, you might have been getting wrong your whole life?_

…But what if she hasn't been getting it wrong? Anakin Skywalker represents another life she could have had. Would she have been happier, or sadder? Still a hostage – slave – to the Order?

…Would she have ever had Ferus?

She dries her face, and begins to pick up the pieces.

* * *

><p><strong>eight.<strong>

She visits Ferus on Bellassa a week later. "I think we need to talk," she says awkwardly with a tentative smile.

(It ends with them having sex.)


	11. parsecs asunder

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of Ryn Orun belongs to __DestructiveGlory__; I am simply borrowing her for the purposes of this story._

* * *

><p>This part is rated M for het sexual situations.<p>

* * *

><p>(10)<p>

**parsecs asunder**

In his spare time, Ferus Olin wrote poetry.

It wasn't very good poetry, he admitted. Mostly a lot of angst and heartbreak, typical musings of a tortured artist.

_Every night in my dreams  
>I see you; my heart yearns<br>For you. Alas! we are parsecs asunder,  
>And time may not heal the pain<br>I bestowed upon thee,  
>But near or far, wherever you may be,<br>My heart beats on – for you._

After writing the fifth poem, Ferus looked back over them for further inspiration. It was then he decided he was just writing the same thing over and over again with different words, and should probably stick to slicing from now on.

He hid the poems in his bedside drawer with every intention of deleting them later.

* * *

><p>Roan had a girlfriend. When and how this happened, Ferus had no idea but Roan seemed happy enough. (A healthy dose of sex, his mind snarked once, sounding far too much like Ryn for his own liking.) She also lived in another system with an entire livelihood, and neither Roan nor the girl were willing to make the move just yet. Ferus wondered how they were going to do the whole long-distance relationship thing and asked as much over dinner one night.<p>

"Well, it's not too bad, she has her own starship and I can get messages to her easily enough, even though we're –" Roan seemed to choke on his words. Ferus faced him to ask what was wrong, but stopped when he noticed that Roan was biting down on his lower lip dangerously. "P-parsecs asunder…"

Ferus paled, and Roan couldn't hold it anymore and doubled over, laughing.

"Did you go through my things?"

(He didn't squeak. Ferus Olin did not _squeak_.)

"I was looking for a spare datapad, _you_ left it in plain sight!" Roan protested through another laughing fit, and Ferus scowled. "My heart yearns for you, Ferus!"

* * *

><p>(At least it was just Roan. If Anakin Skywalker had found the poetry, Ferus didn't think he'd ever live it down.)<p>

* * *

><p>Over the months, Ferus got to know the old man in the house next door. Decent fellow, if a bit eccentric, but Ferus liked visiting him from time to time to hear stories, usually ones that started with "Back in <em>my<em> day…"

"I think I scored about fifty-three back in my day!" He exclaimed one morning over a cup of caf. Ferus didn't know exactly what the fifty-three he was referring to actually was, but he assumed it was sexual conquests – a common topic with this man.

(He wondered if he even had a name. Ferus asked him a few times, but the old man feigned deafness whenever he did.)

"…and number twelve, dear _kriff_ she one was a hard one to get, fought me every step of the way she did. Feisty, that one! Those are the best. But I got her in the end! Eheheheh…"

This was nice, Ferus thought. Not the topic, that left something to be desired, but… just this. Listening to someone else's life, living his own, working with Roan… He could admit it to himself now: he would be all right without Ryn. He hoped she was all right, whatever she was up to these days.

(He still missed her terribly, though.)

"…So, anyways, I got back to the organisation and they gave me another kill, but I said –"

Ferus blinked. "Wait. _Kills_?"

The old man snorted. "Of course _kills_, you delinquent juvenile! I've been talking to you about it all day! Back in _my_ day, men like myself had _proper_ careers, like becoming assassins! None of this timewasting stuff you do with your flashy computers. Honestly. Back in my day, we respected our elders and didn't interrupt them mid-speech! You watch yourself, young Mister Olin. Now, as I was saying before you _rudely_ interrupted me, they gave me another kill, but…"

Ferus just shook his head, and stayed to listen to the rest of the story, unsure whether to be horrified or amused.

(He settled for somewhere in between.)

* * *

><p>Roan was off-planet in a coincidence of good timing when Ryn arrived at his front door. "I think we need to talk," she said with a tentative smile, and Ferus let her in.<p>

He offered her a drink first, to hold off the inevitable Talk she all but promised. She accepted it but didn't drink, and didn't start by skirting around the issue like he thought she would.

"You hurt me, Ferus."

(Of _all_ the ways to start…)

"I – I trusted you, and…" She sighed, and he felt awful all over again but didn't say anything. "What you did was wrong. You know how much my life means to me."

He bowed his head. "I know. I'm sorry."

"But…"

He didn't raise his head in hope.

"…I've had a lot of time to think about everything. You were also trying to do something good for me."

_The road to hell is paved with good intentions_, he remembered she once told him. Ryn's hands gently cupped his chin and prompted him to look up and meet her gaze.

"And you _did_ do something good for me. Maybe not for Loreth in that moment, and maybe not for the Republic, but Kenobi was sort of right. The Jedi have a seat in the Senate now – my situation would have come to light, and political activists could have caused major problems for Loreth. At least this way, we're out of the glare. And…" She smiled. "I'm free in all but name, now."

There was a light to her eyes he never remembered seeing. He held her hand nervously. (She didn't pull away.) "So… you forgive me?"

"On one condition."

"Anything."

She bit her lip sheepishly. "Forgive me for giving you a concussion with the plates."

Ferus smiled and touched his head where the ceramic cut it. "To be honest, I'm more impressed that you managed to turn a kitchen appliance into a lethal weapon than anything else."

She laughed. "Is that a yes, you forgive me?"

He could say something sentimental and cliché there – something cringe-worthy, like, _no, because I have nothing to forgive you for,_ but that would just sound contrived even though it was true. So very _him_, of course, but it'd ruin the mood.

So he said it anyway, and she laughed again.

"So… start over?" he tried when she finished.

"I'd like that," she said, smiling, and stood a bit too close for someone supposedly 'starting over'. She raised a hand to his stubbly cheek and laughed a bit. "What have you done to your face?"

"I, uh – forgot to shave."

"Feels like you forgot to shave for three days in a row."

"I've been busy."

"Oh? Busy doing what?"

_Writing poetry._

"You know. Slicing."

(Force forbid she _ever_ found out about his poetry…)

She smiled again and his heart nearly skipped a beat. (She hadn't looked at him that way for years.) Her thumb made a slight movement on his cheek and he resisted the urge to close his eyes and lose himself to the intimacy. _I've missed this._ Then he realised she'd moved even closer and started to pull away, startled. "Ah, Ryn –?"

"Shh," she whispered, pressing her finger to his lips. She looked beautiful close-up – she looked beautiful no matter what. "You talk too much. Did you know that?"

"You might have mentioned it once or twice before."

Ryn kissed him, and he didn't resist at all. It was gentle and desperate at the same time, passion they'd lacked in their last months together reigniting, and his hands quickly moved to her waist as she wrapped hers around his shoulders, parting her lips and kissing him deeply.

"I thought we –" he gasped when they pulled away to tug at clothes, "ah, we were going to… start over…?"

("Starting over" generally implied "taking things slowly", but he never exactly knew with Ryn.)

She grinned against his lips. "This _is_ starting over."

When her hand slipped inside his pants, Ferus couldn't exactly argue.

(He'd missed this – he'd missed her, everything about her, her unpredictability, her passion, her –)

He choked when she teased the head of his erection with talented fingers. He stopped her ministrations before he came, and instead pressed his lips to hers in another kiss as they stumbled out of their clothes and staggered over to his bedroom, clumsily navigating through heavy kissing. The backs of his knees finally met the bed and he fell back onto it, pulling a laughing Ryn with him. She straddled him and kissed his mouth softly before positioning herself over him and sinking. Ferus groaned and his head fell back, the sensation of Ryn rising and falling on him enough to send him spiralling over that edge he knew he would, any second – she seemed to sense this and kissed him and stilled, holding him tightly.

"R-Ryn –" he moaned, trying to gather a modicum of control. She pushed a few strands of his hair – clinging to his forehead – away, and gazed at him tenderly before she started to move again. He traced a finger down her abdomen to her clit and rolled his thumb over the sensitive nub. She took a sharp intake of breath when he rubbed, gently at first then applying more pressure in all the spots he knew she liked, until her whole body was trembling as much as his.

"Oh Force, F-Ferus –" she gasped incoherently. She was so close, so close – he just needed to find that movement that would tip her over the edge and rubbed her clit in earnest, straining against his own need to come, until he felt her body clench around his and shudder her release. The sensation of her clenching around him was enough to bring him to completion. He groaned into her shoulder as he felt himself come apart, ecstasy shattering his world, and together they fell back into the sheets, gasping and heavily spent.

"Good start, wouldn't you say?" he breathlessly muttered, pulling out of her, and she smiled into his shoulder.

"_Very_ good start," she agreed, and he kissed her.

"I missed you," he whispered into her hair, and her hands settled around his sweaty shoulders.

"I missed you too," she replied, and settled her leg over his.

_And then they confess their undying love for each other as the sun sets blissfully in the distance._

_…I have _got_ to stop writing poetry._

* * *

><p>The next morning, he woke up – still very naked – to see an equally naked Ryn (not that he was complaining about <em>that<em>) rummaging through the drawer, teeth biting her lower lip and face turning red.

"…Is this _poetry_?"

Ferus didn't give her the chance to tease him. He grabbed her and pulled her back into his arms, and smothered her laughing mouth with his own.


	12. falling apart

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of Ryn Orun belongs to __DestructiveGlory__; I am simply borrowing her for the purposes of this story._

* * *

><p>(11)<p>

**falling apart**

The last time Ferus had come to this bar, he'd been getting drunk for the first time in his life. The memory of it was admittedly hazy, but he remembered the highlight of it: throwing up on Anakin Skywalker's boots.

Since that night, he didn't go back, and the only reason he was here now was because of orders.

"Master Olin," Windu had said sternly with his trademark frown. "The Council is… concerned for Master Skywalker, and it appears he is no longer in the Temple. Would you be able to track him down and make sure he's… all right?"

The words were clearly an effort for Windu to say, what with his less-than-smooth-sailing history with Skywalker, but even Windu wasn't callous about everything that had happened to Anakin over the past month. Ferus sighed and made his way through the bar over to where he could feel Anakin's powerful but tumultuous Force signature swirling in a haziness and grief.

He didn't approach immediately. Anakin was sitting at the counter, nursing what looked like the empty glass of his sixth or seven drink, with a dark frown on his forehead. He made some incoherent gesture at the bartender.

"Another?" the bartender asked, clearly not sure how to take Anakin's ambiguous grunt.

"Mmph."

He filled another glass but didn't hand it to Anakin. "You're not planning on driving home yourself, are you?"

"What's it to you?" Anakin asked testily.

"I can't let you have another drink if you are."

Anakin lifted up his hand and waved his fingers around with an impressive lack of coordination. "You _will _give me another drink."

The attempt would have made a Youngling laugh – in fact, Ferus _would _have laughed, had he not known the circumstances. There was no Force behind the demand and even less subtlety. The bartender gave him a dubious look. "Who do you think you are, some kind of Jedi?"

"'Course I'm a bloody Jedi, you –"

"It's okay," Ferus interrupted before Anakin could get himself forcibly thrown out of the bar. "I'm giving him a lift back."

The bartender directed his dubious look at Ferus now, assessing him suspiciously before surrendering custody of Anakin's drink. Anakin grabbed it and turned his head to the left to glare at Ferus.

"What do you want?"

Ferus raised an eyebrow. "You sound surprisingly articulate for someone who's just had seven drinks."

"It's a talent of mine," Anakin spat bitterly, glaring at the drink as though its sheer existence insulted him. "I'm _talented_. I've _always_ been talented. 'Cause I'm the fucking Chosen One, aren't I? 'Cause I'm the fucking _Chancellor killer_. Palpatine wasn't enough for the body count. And _those_ assholes –" he raised his voice, looking around accusingly at the dreary company in the bar, "– think I'm a _hero_."

Thankfully, no-one was sober enough or cared enough to react. "Um."

Anakin looked back at him, noticing him again. "Oh. You." He blinked. "You didn't answer my question, y'know. What do you want?"

"Making sure you're okay."

"Do I look fucking _okay_ to you, Olin? Fuck!" He drained nearly half his glass in one gulp. With his flesh hand, he rubbed his chest, brow buried in a frown. "I'm _fine_. Just _spiffing_."

"I trust you'll forgive me if I don't believe that…" Ferus said, watching Anakin drink some more. Then he bit his lip and hesitated before reaching out to touch his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

And he was. Barely four weeks after Kenobi's death, he'd been hit by news that spread around the Temple like a wild fire… It didn't seem fair.

"You're sorry?" Anakin repeated. "Yeah. Thanks. I guess. " He clutched his drink, face tensing with the unmistakeable look of someone about to cry. "That was the last thing he said to me, you know," he said softly. "That he was sorry. I – I thought he was apologising for – you know. The last few years. Things haven't been good. And he was, at first. But he just kept on saying he was sorry, and he was crying, and he was trying to tell me something about his office but I didn't know what he meant. Couldn't understand him. It's hard to talk when a lightsaber's gone through your gut, I guess."

Thankfully – or perhaps worryingly – Anakin didn't burst into tears like Ferus had expected him to. Instead, Anakin rubbed his chest again, and took another sip of the drink, tension in his face easing ever so slightly. "Probably shouldn't be drinking," Anakin said. "Healers said it might make it worse."

Ferus tentatively reached for the drink. "Then maybe you should –"

"_Don't touch it_," Anakin snarled, rounding on the beverage like a territorial kath hound, and Ferus snatched his hand back.

"Okay, okay…" He conceded, and slowly moved to sit in the chair next to Anakin. "Do you… know what will happen?"

"How I'll die, you mean?" Anakin said tactlessly. "Yeah, Healers told me all about it. Slow degeneration. Coughing up blood, losing control in the nerve endings, fever. Joint pain. Numbness in the limbs, before the end. It'll be like having a really long, really bad cold. With more pain." He paused, then thoughtfully added, "And certain death at the end."

There was an awkward pause. Ferus knew he should say something, but… just didn't know _what_to say.

Anakin saved him by talking again. "I'm not afraid," he mused, talking more to himself now than he was to Ferus. "It's funny – I guess I've never given too much thought for my own death before. I always figured I'd either go down during the war, maybe protecting someone I loved… a good way to die. When the war ended, there just wasn't… _reason_to think about ways I might die. I just figured, when it happened, it'd be my time."

"And now?"

"Now?" Anakin snorted and swirled the liquid around in his glass. "I told you. M'not afraid. Not for myself. It's – I –"

He broke off and the look came onto his face again, and this time Ferus knew he wouldn't be able to hold back tears. "Skywalker?" he said, leaning forward.

Anakin choked and covered his eyes with a badly shaking hand. "I don't – it's just –" Anakin spluttered. Ferus watched his mechanical hand, usually so stable and elegant in a way no human hand could be, tremble, making the contents of the glass slosh around. "H-how am I going to tell _her_? She'll _hate _him, she already hates him, and I don't want her to because I don't b-blame him. How can I look Padmé in the eye and tell her that I'm – I'm –"

He dropped his head to the filthy counter, and started to weep. Hitching sobs that made his shoulders jerk and gasps of breath that made Ferus stand there in shock. Not knowing what else to do, he stood up and grasped Anakin's shoulders in a useless attempt at comfort.

_How can I look Padmé in the eye and tell her that I'm – I'm –_

Tell her that I am going to die.

He swallowed a painful lump in his throat, rubbing Anakin's back. It wasn't like they were close friends, or could be considered 'friends' at all, but he felt like there was something of an obscure connection between them. Because of Kenobi. Not that Anakin knew about… that. And hopefully never would.

Ferus sighed. _Damn you, Obi-Wan…_

He wouldn't say that out loud. The last person who said it near Anakin, only last week, was inches away from being landed in the Healer's Ward permanently. "Hey," he muttered when Anakin's sobs subsided. "Remember the last time we were here?"

"Yeah," Anakin sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve. "You threw up on my boots."

Ferus stiffened. "Don't you dare do the same, Skywalker."

Anakin scowled through the haze of his inebriation. "Your boots aren't good enough for my vomit," he snarked, but the effect was lost when he swayed violently to the side and spilt half of his drink on the counter.

"…Now I'm not sure whether to be happy or insulted," Ferus said, raising an eyebrow and gently prying the glass from Anakin's hand and leaving it on the counter. _Typical of Skywalker_. "Come on. Let's get you out of here." Anakin nodded compliantly and let Ferus wrap his arm around his shoulders so he could lean on him. "Is your wife expecting you home tonight?"

Anakin shook his head uncoordinatedly, knocking it painfully into Ferus's shoulder. "No," he mumbled. "I… lied to her, earlier. Told her I was needed at the Temple. Still need to figure out… how to tell her… Doesn't know… and oh Force, Luke and Leia, they're only _ten_… what am I going to _say _to them?"

As Ferus helped him into the speeder, he started crying again. It wasn't a painful sobbing like before – this was far worse. He sat there in the passenger seat with silent tears streaming down his cheeks, occasionally taking a shuddering breath, and trembling. It was utterly heartbreaking to see, so Ferus kept his eyes on the traffic so he didn't have to watch. It seemed to take forever to reach the Temple, but when he did he somehow managed to half-drag Anakin through to his quarters and made him sit on the spare bed once inside.

Ryn wasn't here, in a coincidence of good timing – even though she had a job teaching down at the University and was now his wife, she still visited Loreth when she could. Ferus was glad she'd chosen this week to go, not, amazingly, because he had Anakin Skywalker in the house, but because it meant he didn't have to talk about it tonight.

_Selfish bastard, you're not the one who's dying…_

He took another look at Anakin's grief-stricken face, silent tears still dripping down his face. "Hey, look, don't worry about it tonight," Ferus said softly, pulling Anakin's boots off like the grown man was a child. "Okay? You can't do anything about it now. Why don't you just get some rest, and you can deal with it tomorrow."

Anakin nodded tiredly and fell back, head hitting the pillow. "Y'know… you're… not so bad, Olin. For an ass."

Ferus blinked, placing the boots neatly over to the side. "Oh. Uh, good to hear, Skywalker. Good to hear."

"You're supposed to say 'thank you'. S'a compliment."

Ferus quirked an amused eyebrow. "In that case, thank you, but I must say your complimentary skills leave a lot to be desired."

"Your face leaves a lot to be desired," Anakin mumbled.

"Mature."

"S'not too bad, I s'pose," Anakin slurred when Ferus dropped a blanket over his body. "Ten years. More, if m'lucky."

"Goodnight, Skywalker. You'll feel terrible tomorrow morning," he said softly, and switched off the lights. "Just letting you know."

As he walked out, he heard Anakin murmur before he fell asleep, "…I'll still be able to see my kids… grow up…"


	13. take it easy

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of Ryn Orun belongs to __DestructiveGlory__; I am simply borrowing her for the purposes of this story._

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><p>(12)<p>

**take it easy**

People didn't often knock on her door in the evening. Ryn was in the middle of getting changed into her sleep clothes when someone hammered on her door erratically. She only had time to grab a light shirt and put it on before rushing to answer the door. She half expected it to be one of her students from the university, in hysterics over an assignment, but –

"Oh. Hi."

Ryn blinked in surprise and stood back, taking a moment to find her voice. "Master Skywalker. Good evening."

She saw him swallow, watched his Adam's apple bob. "Is, uh, is Ferus here?"

"No, he's on Bellassa. He won't be back for a few days."

"Oh. Right."

He looked so awkward in the doorway so she stood aside and asked if he wanted to come in. It was more on autopilot than desire that he entered her home, looking a bit lost. She closed the door behind him. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yeah, fine," he said distractedly. "I just had a fight with Padmé again, and I wanted to…" He broke off and shook his head. "Sorry. I shouldn't be bothering you with this. Or Ferus. It's just –"

He broke off again, but this time it was to cough. He turned away and doubled over, hacking uncontrollably and pressing a handkerchief to his mouth. She instinctively jumped to his side to hold his shoulder or rub his back, or something, but he pushed her away. After what felt like an eternity the coughing stopped, and when he pulled the kerchief away from his mouth to shove in his robe pocket she saw it was soaked with blood. She moved closer again but he waved a hand at her.

"Don't come near me when I cough unless you've been vaccinated against Strain 6 of RSV."

"I didn't think you were still contagious."

"I'm not, but… just in case. Okay?"

"Okay." Ryn rubbed her arms, wishing she'd put something warmer on. "Would you like a glass of water?"

"Please."

She fetched him one from the kitchen, and when she returned he was easing himself into a chair, face tensed in pain. She handed it to him and he grasped it with his human hand. It shook, but she didn't say anything. He'd come here for Ferus, not her, and she felt bad that she couldn't help Anakin Skywalker in her husband's absence. She _wanted _to help him. Not just for the sake of what could have been or what might have been, in another universe, but because he was Ferus's friend. Oh, sure, Ferus pretended he regarded Skywalker with disdain, but there was always that glint in his eye, the barely hidden smile.

So she tentatively asked, "Is there anything I can help with?"

Anakin snorted. "Only if you can turn back time. But thanks for the offer."

She nearly raised an eyebrow. "Well, that is probably the _one _thing I am unable to do."

He laughed. It was humorous, but it sounded a bit forced, as if he knew he should laugh there but couldn't really get himself to feel it. She wet her lips.

"Master Skywalker –"

He grasped her hand suddenly, holding it tightly, and she could see the pain – physical and emotional – shining in his eyes. It touched her and made her lips part in surprise, nearly seeing herself and the woman she might have been staring back at her.

"Anakin," he said, sounding almost desperate. "My name is _Anakin_. You _can _use it, you know."

"Anakin," she heard herself say numbly.

He looked at where their hands joined, how she gripped back tightly as well. Then he sighed, and averted his gaze, shoulders falling. "Listen, Ryn," he said softly. "I was telling the truth last time. I think we missed out on something. I don't even know you, and you don't know me, but there is something here. Maybe not what you thought it was, but… something. It's too late now, but… part of me regrets that."

He met her eyes again, _seeing _her.

"You're a great person, Ryn. Ferus is lucky to have you."

What a funny thing to say. By his own confession, he didn't know her. Not really.

She couldn't say anything. He dropped her hand and snorted again, this time bitterly. "_Could _have been. _Should _have been. There's so much that could fall into those categories." And here she knew he wasn't just talking about her. He shook his head. "Maybe it's a good thing we missed out on whatever it was, because the people who care about me, and the people I care about… they get hurt. Always."

He took a shuddering breath. Ryn didn't know what to say to that, as his face crumbled. "I… failed my best friend when he needed me the most," he whispered hoarsely. "My condition is tearing my family apart – Padmé can't handle it. My kids might grow up without a dad." He laughed. It was more hysterical than anything. "You count yourself lucky that you didn't get tangled up in my life earlier."

And what could she say to _that_? Anakin sounded like he wanted to cry, or needed to cry. "Are you afraid?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Afraid to die, you mean? No. I told this to Ferus once before. I'm afraid to what it'll do to Padmé. It's been more than a year and she still hasn't accepted what's going to happen eventually. My kids…" His face lightened when he thought of them. "I think they'll be okay. They're young, but they understand. Maybe not what death means, but… that Daddy isn't going to be there forever."

His voice hitched on that last sentence.

"I'm so sorry," she said, and this time she rubbed his shoulder. He trembled and leaned into her touch.

"No, it's okay. I'm sorry for dumping this on you," he said. "I… it's just, I only really have Ferus to talk to now. I can't talk to Padmé about any of this, we just end up fighting. Like tonight. Luke and Leia are only kids, I don't want to burden them with this." Anakin turned his head to one side. "S'pose I could talk to Windu. Payback for all those years he spent lecturing me. And he doesn't treat me like I'm about to break like some of the others do."

She nodded. "Well, if… if you ever need to talk and Ferus isn't around… I'd be happy to listen."

He took a deep breath, and the expression on his face – the one that looked like it was ready to shatter into tears – softened, replaced by a grateful smile. "Thanks, Ryn." He stood up, wincing as he got to his feet. "I should head home. Stop bothering your evening with tales of woe and misery." He quirked a smile and she couldn't help but smile back.

"Well, tales of woe and misery are my speciality."

He raised an amused eyebrow. "Are they now? Perhaps one day I'll get to here yours. Can you tell Ferus I came by?"

"Of course."

"Take it easy," he said, grasping her hand once more before he started walking towards the door.

"Master Skywalker – Anakin," Ryn said, stopping him. He turned, looking quizzical. "Would… would you and your wife like to come over for dinner one night? When Ferus returns, that is. We'd be happy to have you."

For the first time that evening, his smile reached his eyes. It stripped years away from him and he looked like that younger man Ryn met in passing, the one who'd quickened her heartbeat and entranced. The effect was long gone, but that something between them – that something they'd missed out on – lingered. "Thanks, Ryn. I'd love to. I'll take it up with Padmé."

Whether that meant Padmé had the final say or he would come regardless, she didn't know, but suspected (hoped) it would be the latter. Briefly she wondered if his marriage would survive, and felt sorry for him and his children. She felt a surge of fury run through her, cursing Kenobi for what he'd done – not just to the galaxy, but what he'd done to his best friend.

She couldn't say that, of course. Anakin still loved Kenobi, despite everything, and she admired that in him.

"Anakin?" she said, stopping him again, and she smiled. "Take it easy."

He laughed. "Will do."


	14. dinner for three

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of Ryn Orun belongs to __DestructiveGlory__; I am simply borrowing her for the purposes of this story._

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><p>(13)<p>

**dinner for three**

"…and then he said – brace yourself – 'With all due respect, Chancellor Palpatine, fuck you.'"

"No."

"_Yes_."

"He actually _said _that?"

"If I hadn't been there, I would never have believed it, but fuck yeah did he say it!"

"I don't believe you. I refuse to believe that –"

"Are you callin' me a liar, Olin?"

They stare seriously at each other for a tense moment, but Ferus breaks first and starts laughing, rocking precariously in his chair. Anakin dissolves into hysterical sniggering after him, holding his glass of wine in one hand. Ryn bites back a smile and smoothly removed the glass from Anakin's hand before he can take a swig of it and completely miss his mouth. He blinks at his empty hand as if wondering where his glass had gone.

"That's enough for tonight, gentlemen, I think," Ryn says with a smile. Ferus grasps her hand, looking up at her hopefully.

"Just one more story, Ryn, please?"

She pretends to heave a long-suffering sigh. "Well, all right. Just one. I'm sure Mrs Skywalker is anxious to have her husband back."

Anakin shakes his head, blinking blearily. "No," he says, "she… we had another…" He breaks off and shrugs, putting on a nonchalant face. Ryn sees right through it – so does Ferus, even in his inebriated state. "I think I've run out of stories, you two," he says instead, grinning goofily. "I'd rather hear one of yours."

Ferus holds her hand tighter and pulls her closer until she's sitting on one of his thighs. Completely indecent, of course, but she's sure Anakin doesn't mind. "Did I tell you the one about the plates?" Ferus asks.

Ryn flushes and playfully pushes him. Anakin laughs and leans back into his chair, letting his hair fall into his eyes. He looks young tonight, and for perhaps the first time Ryn has seen him in the last year, free of the burdens which usually weigh him down.

"Yeah, you told me that one. Good aim, Ryn, bet it knocked some sense into that thick head of his!"

She can't help but grin. "All right," she says. "Have you heard the one about Ferus's poetry?"

"Ryn!" Ferus yelps, suddenly sober, but it's too late now – Anakin is leaning forwards in anticipation, eyes gleaming.

"_Poetry?_"

"It was surprisingly good," she says, ignoring Ferus's hand trying to cover her mouth. "It's a shame I can't show you any of it, they're all _parsecs asunder –_"

"_Ryn!_"

Anakin bursts into laughter again, clutching his stomach. It doesn't turn into a cough, amazingly – and even if it will, she recently had a vaccination against his strain at Ferus's insistence.

She succumbs to the temptation of a few drinks herself, feeling flushed and even more relaxed as the night rolls on. The stories go on for another two hours until it's well past one in the morning, Ferus and Anakin tipsily reminiscing, getting more and more outrageous until they somehow arrive at the point of fumbling with belt buckles for a penis-size comparison contest. (Again.) How this happens, she doesn't know, but she sends Ferus off to bed right before he can pull his pants down.

(Not that she'd have minded…)

"Hey," Anakin says as she helps him to the small docking bay, swaying ever so slightly. She lets him grasp her arm to steady himself. "Thanks for having me over. Dinner was great and I had a really fun time tonight. Best night I've had in a year."

At this, Ryn isn't sure whether to feel happy or sad for him, or whether or not to confess that Ferus actually cooked most of the food, but eventually settles on happy and silence and smiles at him. "Thank you for coming."

They part with him clumsily kissing her cheek before jumping into the airtaxi. She watches him as he takes off, then locks up and heads to her bedroom. Ferus isn't quite asleep yet, but he's almost there, hovering between the realms of consciousness and slumber.

"S'He gone?" Ferus mumbles, eyes closed, as he approaches. His hand waves around uncoordinatedly for her and she takes it, if only to stop him from hitting her face, and she smiles.

"Yes, he's gone."

"Oh. M'kay. C'mere."

She lies down next to him, twining her fingers through his. "So, about you wanting to pull your penis out at dinner."

"Mmmph?"

She grins against his shoulder. "I was thinking… instead of –"

She doesn't get to finish, because Ferus is already snoring. Torn between disappointment and amusement, she ends up somewhere in between and sighs in mock-frustration, kissing his cheek softly. "Maybe in the morning, then, if your hangover isn't too bad," she whispers, and pulls the covers up around them.


	15. without representation

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The character of Ryn Orun belongs to __DestructiveGlory__; I am simply borrowing her for the purposes of this story._

* * *

><p>Set between (11) and (12).<p>

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><p>(14)<p>

**without representation**

_"That'll be 102 credits, sir."_

_Ferus looked up in shock. "102 credits?" he repeated in a perfectly dignified tone. (He didn't squawk, damn it.) "What? Since when? I paid 78 credits for the same things last week!"_

_The young Twi'lek girl at the checkout stiffened, green face turning pale and defensive. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, sir," she said, anger rippling beneath the surface, barely restrained. Her jaw thrust out indignantly, reminding him instantly of small but outspoken Leia Skywalker - except this girl looked like she was on the verge of tears. "Due to the new tax reforms -"_

_"Hey, hey," Ferus quickly said, holding up his hands in what he hoped was a non-threatening manner. "It's okay. I'm not mad at you. I know it's not your fault. I was just shocked, that's all."_

_She took a short breath and calmed a bit, offering him a weak smile in thanks, perhaps relieved to not have a customer yelling at her for once. Ferus forked over 120 credits instead and told her to keep the change._

_Behind him, as he left the store, he heard the next customer in line shout, "_What_? That's kriffing bullshit! This is daylight robbery! Are you telling me -?"_

* * *

><p><em>They could have been worse off, Ferus supposed.<em>

_"We'll be okay," Ryn said. "I start my new job next week."_

_Ferus nodded, and turned off the holonet. "I'm thinking about looking for work in Coruscant government administration. They're always on the lookout for slicers, aren't they?"_

_Ryn snorted unexpectedly. "Sure, if you're Stewjonian."_

_He felt like snapping back, _What's that supposed to mean?_ But he knew she was right._

_Kenobi's secretary was Stewjonian. His personal guard were Stewjonians. Half of the administrators in the Senate were Stewjonian. It was a wonder there were any Stewjonians actually left on Stewjon._

_"The accent gives them away," he muttered._

_"I don't think you'll find any work there."_

_"It's not urgent," he said. "I just thought it might be nice to have a bit of extra income, what with the tax reforms. I mean, I know the Jedi cover me, but... they're probably under pressure as well." He fiddled with a datapad absently. "Maybe if I talked to Kenobi directly..."_

_"Oh, Ferus." She sounded a bit sad, for once, and sat down next to him on the couch. "When was the last time anyone actually _spoke_ to him?"_

_"Anakin -"_

_She shook her head. "Anakin hasn't seen him for months and you know it."_

_He knew what she was saying - or rather, what she wasn't saying. "I trust him."_

_"You trust Obi-Wan. Not Chancellor Kenobi."_

_"He's a good man, Ryn."_

_She raised an eyebrow. "Hence the tax reforms. And the privacy policies. And the overruling acts. And -"_

_"I get it," he said darkly, then sighed and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He made a quick mental note to stop doing that - his hairline, he was worried, was beginning to recede._

_Ryn reached over to turn the holonet reports back on. Predictably, a report on the new tax reforms was the first thing on - some pretty woman cheerfully explaining the impacts of the tax, then cutting to Kenobi reassuring the Republic that they were necessary. His voice was, as always, soft and soothing and impossible to not trust._

_"I'm worried," he said before he could stop himself, and Ryn took his left hand._

_"I know."_


End file.
